Adaptation
by sellthelie
Summary: We know what we are, but know not what we may be.  Narcissa Malfoy x Bill Weasley
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Adaptation  
**By:** mandy-jg  
**Rating:** Any Age  
**Pairing:** Narcissa/Bill  
**Summary:** _"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."_  
**A/N:** For **milynee**. ♥ An **early** birthday present! I just couldn't wait. November is much too far away. ::hugs:: Beta'd by **kazfeist**. Thanks!  
**Prompt:** Missing - **100quills**  
**Deathly Hallows:** Not really relevant, since it's set then, and some things don't happen. Also, I can't really remember little things, so other than some people still being alive, and other little bits, not really compliant at all.

* * *

Instinct.

Everything in her life had boiled down to instinct.

Natural instinct. Her maternal instinct. It told her that something was wrong. How very wrong would remain to be seen, but it didn't feel right. The last owl she had received told her that tonight was the night. Everything had been building, stacking up, balancing like a pack of cards.

Tonight, they would discover how they fell.

She would discover just how she and her son now survive in the world in which they lived.

--

She didn't like to pace. It showed too much: her anxieties, her nerves. When she worked so hard to keep those feelings hidden, to remain unaffected by the world around her. She wanted to sit calmly, serenely in her chair. She would keep one eye on the door and one on the Floo. Waiting for word. She couldn't though. She _was _anxious, she _was_ nervous. Everything depended on this one night. It was frankly, too much to bear.

Her son, her only son, his life was perched on the precipice. Placed there not by her hand, but by his father's. Through no fault of his own, his life hung on the balance. There were two paths in front of him. One she hoped he would take, and one that never in her darkest nightmares would she want for him. For no mother should want her child to be a killer.

While she didn't want him to spill blood, kill, she wanted no blood on her boy's spilled, either. It was a kill or be killed situation. _If_ he failed, he would surely be a traitor to the Dark Lord. That was not something she wanted him to be be. His life would more or less be over. She didn't like to think about it, but he would surely be killed.

If on the other hand, he _didn't_ fail, his life would be in tatters. He would be a hunted man, pursued wherever he went. That was, if he managed to escape the castle with his life. Security 'now that the Dark Lord was _active_' would be immense. And while Draco told her that he had encountered no Aurors, she wasn't a fool. Ifher son could find ways to disguise himself, the Auror's ways were far more highly advanced, compared to his. They were there.

So it was a waiting game. Nothing could be done till she received word, either way.

At times like these, she'd wanted Lucius around; if for no other purpose than to reassure her that everything would be fine. She wanted to believe that it would be, more than anything. It was a false hope though; no matter what happened. It wasn't going to be fine.

The walls of Malfoy Manor which had always felt protective, now encroached. They constricted upon her... she wanted to be gone. Escape now, run now; to where she didn't know. Staying here though, was necessary for the time being. She needed her son. Narcissa couldn't leave without him.

She looked around the spacious sitting room. Her home. For nearly twenty years she had lived here, she had spent the best years of her life within these walls. She had been married to a man she had adored. Her son was conceived, born, and raised in this house. Over the last few years 'however' the gloss had worn off; the shine had faded with time. She was loyal, though. She had made vows, made promises, and she would live by those words. No matter how disenchanted she became with them.

The mantle was lined with photographs. Pictures of happier times. Of times when the smiles weren't forced. Of a time she would happily return to. Her husband smirked at her from his position front and center. There was a time when that smirk would make her weak at the knees. Just a little hint of it, and she was butter in his hands. Now it twisted her stomach, and accelerated her pulse the wrong way. Narcissa didn't trust it anymore; she was unsure of its intentions. They had never been pure --- she just couldn't be sure anymore if they were sinister.

She crossed the room quickly, and turned away all the frames that contained her husband. His careless smirk did nothing to help her nerves, and neither did the expression on her son's face. She picked up her favourite picture and sat finally.

It had been taken six years ago now, on the eve of his first school year. She had been so proud... her baby was going to Hogwarts. Draco had looked so grown up in his school robes; he wasn't her little boy anymore. He had aged naturally since this photograph had been taken. Losing his full cheeks, and getting taller. The expression had changed too. On that night many years ago as he tried his new school robes on for fun, a happy smile had graced his face, and his eyes sparkled with the joy of what was to come. Now he looked panicked; his lips wavered, and he looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Her handsome son had vanished. In his place stood another of the Dark Lord's minions. She didn't like it. She wanted her son back. She lay back in her chair, cradling the precious photo to her chest. Closing her eyes, it was back to waiting. The clock in the entry rang twice, signifying two o'clock in the morning. The time to remain calm had passed. She just wanted her boy back with her.

Her eyes snapped open as a whistle rang through the air. It only meant one thing. A piece of parchment appeared in the fireplace, floating down to rest on the logs. Narcissa crossed the room immediately, and picked it up. Recognising her husband's script immediately.

_It has begun._

It was simple, but it needed to say no more. Whether it meant that the events at Hogwarts had started, or if he meant that they had done what needed to be done, all she knew was that it would be over soon; soon she would have him back. How Lucius knew what was happening while ensconsed within the walls of Azkaban, she didn't know. There were things she couldn't begin to understand.

She had never berated Lucius for anything. His path had been set long before they had even met. He _had _been a good husband, to the best of his ability. Draco and herself had never wanted anything. In the beginning of their marriage, and while Draco was still young, it had been wonderful. As the years went by, it had lost its wonder. She was a grown witch, and she knew her place in the marriage. It was Draco she wanted more for. He was a young child, and while brooms and other_ fun _toys distracted, they did nothing to negate his base need.

Love.

Narcissa gave him all the love and devotion a mother could. A boy though, a growing boy, needed love from his father. He needed a father, someone to look up to. It caused her no small amount of grief to see what he received. Maybe it was because of how he had been brought up, it was a different time. Lucius' father was a _difficult _man. But all the excuses in the world did nothing for Draco. When he should have received love, guidance and a place to feel safe; all he got was disdain, anger, and someone who was never happy with the son they had.

She held that to be the sole reason for what he was doing right now. She couldn't change the way Draco, or Lucius had been brought up. She couldn't change what had happened to Lucius in the Department of Mysteries. Each of those had led to now, and now was what she could change. Severus _would _bring Draco home, and she would do the only thing she could think to do.

Run.

She sat till the clock rang the hour once more, with someone following it inside, the front door of the Manor was thrown open. Whoever it was ran inside silently. Not saying anything, she leaped out of her chair, as she could hear footsteps getting closer. Narcissa couldn't bring herself to move further.

"Mum?" She heard softly.

Draco.

Narcissa moved to the doorway, and she saw him. Heading down the hall away from her.

"Draco?" She called, willing her son to turn and face her.

He stopped, and her heart raced faster still. He turned and ran towards her. She wrapped her arms around him, cradling Draco to her chest. He shook in her ams, silent and shivering, and she didn't know what to say to make him speak. Her instincts had failed her. Her urge was purely to hold him, as though that would be enough to keep him safe. She knew 'however' that time was not their friend. Standing still made them an easy target. They couldn't afford to stay.

There were things she needed to know 'though' before they could do anything.

"Draco," she began softly. "Where is Severus?"

"I don't know," he said into her hair. "We Apparated separately; I came straight here."

"Okay," she whispered, hoping that he would be okay. He was one of her oldest friends, and she didn't want to think of what the consequences might be for him if things went badly. "I need to know what happened."

"I couldn't do it."

"You didn't?"

"I couldn't Mum. I failed."

"Oh sweetheart," she cried. "You didn't fail, you didn't."

Draco pulled himself away from her violently and he walked to the window, kicking the window seat as he got there. "I did Mum. I nearly did it, I _intended_ to do it, but I couldn't. _He _doesn't take 'couldn't' as a reason for not achieving something. Father will be punished for this."

"At the moment your father is not important; besides it doesn't matter what your actions were," she moved behind him, stroking his hair. "It was a lose-lose situation. Either way the result is the same. The how is the only difference. It has just narrowed our options down to one."

"And that is?"

"Run."

"Run?" He turned to her.

"Run, leave, it's all the same. We have to go."

"When?"

"Now."

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter --- far away. Out of England. Europe will probably be our best option. I haven't given the destination much thought, but leaving, and leaving soon, is what is important. They will be looking for you soon, both sides, and this will be the first place they will look."

"Do I have time to pack?" He asked desperately.

"No," she said quickly, walking away, indicating for Draco to follow her. "I've already packed. We have to go now."

"To where, though?"

"Please Draco," she turned to him. "I really _don't _know, all I know is that we have to go. We'll go to London tonight; it's a heavy populated area, lots of magic."

He nodded, and Narcissa's heart broke a little for her son. He looked so tired, so worn out. They wouldn't be running forever, but they needed to right now.

"Let's go."

--

  
It was the polar opposite of everything she was used to. Truth be told, she had only been in the Muggle world once or twice in the last twenty years. There was no reason for it. She was a _Black_; why would she subject herself to those filthy Mudbloods? Then she'd married Lucius, and became a housewife, a respectable Pureblood housewife. She went to Diagon Alley, and on occasion had ventured into Knockturn Alley. But, other than taking Draco to King's Cross, and her trip to Spinner's End to see Severus, she had remained untouched by the Muggle world. 

She had never been interested in touching it either, believing the tales she had been told. They were vermin, less than vermin. They were lucky that they were allowed to exist in the same space as wizardkind. There were stories of those disgusting Mudbloods, cautionary tales told to prevent young witches and wizards attempting to commingle with them. Narcissa had been content to heed these stories. She had been happy living in her world, there had never been a desire to breathe where they breathed. Two separate worlds was perfect. Anything to keep them away from her son.

Now though, associating with them was entirely necessary. If they wanted to survive.

Narcissa allowed herself a brief moment to panic, and she took it gladly. The air was fresh, and she breathed it in greedily. Taking what was given so freely. She had been so stupid, so blind. She hadn't planned, for plans can be discovered, thwarted. She was going on instincts alone, and while that in itself was going along swimmingly, it didn't think for itself.

The sun was rising slowly over the horizon, and the sea stretched out as far as she could see to meet it.

She knew they had to leave England. It wasn't the place for them at this time. In her hand she held money, Wizarding money. Over the last few months when she had had occasion to be banking, she would withdraw more than necessary, though nothing to draw attention, as you never knew who was watching. Just enough 'however' to steadily build up a nice amount, which she had with her now for their journey. All of her sneaking though, her _deviousness_, was for naught. It was completely useless, because of what use is a Galleon to a Muggle?

Narcissa was cursing herself for her stupidity. Their path to freedom was not the Wizarding way. Their path was open in front of them right now. They needed to go the Muggle way, and for that purpose she needed Muggle money.

Draco stood beside her, his eyes drooping. They had traveled through the last few hours of darkness. There had been no time for stopping, or slowing down. Together with the necessities that she had packed for them, they had flown by broom to the outskirts of Dover, and traveled by foot to here. It had been a long night and it was only going to get longer.

"Why are we standing here Mum?" She jumped slightly. "Everyone else is boarding. We are going to miss it."

"We can't buy tickets, we can't board the boat. I only have _our _money. It's no good here," her voice breaking. "I tried, I really tried."

Draco moved an arm through hers, whispering, "Let's go over here." She let him guide them to a box next to the entrance. "Can I have the money please?" He smiled at her, the first time she had seen one today. Without question she passed it to him.

"Draco, what," her question died on her lips as she watched him feed their money into the box. Seconds later coins fell, strange little coins into the well at the base of the machine. Narcissa reached down and picked up a coin, turning it over in her fingers.

"That's Muggle money," he said.

"But how did you do that?"

"Muggle Studies. Don't tell Dad, I told him I fobbed off. I sat in the back, still took a few things in, though. Thought this would be handy, if I was ever stranded in the Muggle world, with no money."

"Very handy," she smiled.

--

Travel for her had always been instant. Traveling by Floo, Apparating, or by Portkey it was never time-consuming. Blink and it was over. The train to Hogwarts had been the exception, but 'surrounded by her friends' it had never seemed long. The gentle movement of the boat, and the sound of the water had the right affect on Draco, and within thirty minutes at sea, he was fast asleep on her shoulder.

She was grateful for his ability to find rest. When Draco had come home for Christmas, the difference between then and when she said goodbye to him at the beginning of the school year was immense. It was nothing 'however' compared to the man beside her now. His cheeks were hollow, and completely devoid of colour. Narcissa couldn't tell for certain, but she was sure that underneath his large coat, he would be nothing more than skin and bones.

It made her almost physically ill to see what Lucius had done to her son. It was too much pressure, too much to ask of one so young. The toll of a father's failure reaped from his son's life. It didn't seem like a fair trade to Narcissa.

They were all leaving that behind them now though. Some would call it the cowards way, and maybe it was. All she could think was that this was the only way to save a life. Staying would bring horrors she couldn't begin to imagine. If what Draco had told her was the complete truth, then it wasn't they that were the target. Severus was the intended, it gave them a slight head start, but did little to remove the target from their own backs. They wouldn't even be able to walk down Diagon Alley, but abroad; they would have a chance of freedom.

She had spent some time in France as a child, and holidays when Draco was young. The language 'while not spoken in so long' was second nature to her, resting at the back of her tongue and mind. They could find their own place here, just till it was safe to return. It would work out.

--

He wouldn't admit it. In fact, if you asked, he'd deny it with his last breath.

He had loved her, and as far as he was concerned, she was the one for him. Her beauty had blinded him right from the start, but it was her tenacity that drew him in for keeps. There was a fire inside her. He _had _loved her, and had very much planned on spending the rest of his life with her.

Things change, however, and feelings waver. With the ground shaking beneath his feet, he tried his utmost to keep a hold on everything. Some things hadn't survived though, no matter how hard he'd tried.

There was the possibility that he was taking the excuse that was being offered to him. He could blame it on the Change, he wasn't the same man anymore. He wasn't a complete _man _anymore. That wasn't it, though. He felt grateful that she loved him no matter what. It didn't matter that he had been maimed, or that he got a _monthly _that changed his mood worse than hers. She still wanted him, and still wanted all that he would give her. Right at the start, it had been all that he wanted. After all, a beautiful woman fawning over him? Then, it started to change slowly, it started to constrict. His injuries weren't life threatening; he was fully capable in every way. He could still do things for himself, he could still think for himself.

Maybe his mood changes were to blame, but he found it hard to breath. He needed space. Bill found himself leaving to be by himself more and more. It didn't go unnoticed. If only she had given it to him, the freedom that he craved, maybe he wouldn't be there right now. He'd be getting married. Not surprisingly, Fleur didn't wish to remain in England after their relationship ended. It was where they'd become involved, it was where they were planning their lives together. Her family was in France, and it was also safer there. Above all else, he still wanted her to be happy, _and _safe.

The streets around him were crowded, people enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. With nowhere to go, and no one to see, he was left wondering the streets of Paris alone. It was a beautiful city, so far untouched by Voldemort. He hoped it stayed that way. At any other time, he would have savoured the chance to relax, and explore. Today though, he just wanted to go home. His Portkey was set to go in twenty minutes. He couldn't sit still, so he walked. Passing happy shoppers, people relaxing in little cafe's. He wished he could join them, because he knew that as soon as he got back to England, the fight would still be raging. It would be unrelenting, it wouldn't stop, and when he would have this chance to take a moment, a real moment 'again' was unclear.

Bill stopped as he came across yet another cafe, and he made a quick decision to sit. A waiter came to him after a moment, and in his broken French he ordered a coffee. It wasn't going to take him long to drink just one coffee, and he could say that he _had _enjoyed some peace. That was surely what he was going to be asked of his trip to France. It was such a different place than home. There were smiles on faces, and laughter in the air. Bill would love to see that again on the faces of the people he knew. While it was nice to see it on strangers, it wasn't enough.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as the sun shone down on him. Letting the atmosphere wash over him; the sounds, the smells. His coffee was placed in front of him, and he sat up properly, thanking the vanishing waiter. Lifting the cup to his lips, he looked across the street and saw something extremely out of place. Jumping out of his seat, he threw some coins from his pocket down onto the table. He ran, down the street, pushing past people, noticing some fall, but not having the time to stop as he continued.

Ahead of him was a crosswalk. He ran towards it, glancing at the correlating sidewalk as he went. Bill raced across the street, and stopped for breath in an abandoned alley. He didn't know how long it would be till they made it to his location. Before long he heard the nasally whine that was familiar to him, and adding to the angular face he met as he turned onto the sidewalk, it all fitted together.

Looking at the shocked woman, and then to her son, "Mrs Malfoy, Draco," he said, extending a hand. "Bill Weasley. Well isn't this a surprise."

--

It had all been working so well. Maybe that there should have been the clue. It all felt good, as they had settled into their new lives easily. They were staying in a little hotel room close to the city centre, but not too close. It didn't measure up to what they were used to, but it did it's job. It sheltered them and , it kept them safe.

Draco and she kept to themselves --- it was easy to. France was in the grip of holiday season, and they raised no eyebrows as they walked the streets full of tourists. After two weeks of being stuck inside, wary of what might be lurking outside for they. They began to explore. Narcissa found that the language came back easily, Draco's desire to rid himself of his cabin fever though was enough incentive for him to venture out.

Unsure of the French Magical Ministry's position on the use of Magic, especially while staying in a Muggle hotel, she was hesitant to perform it freely. That was part of Draco's difficulty. At school and at home, magic was ever present. Growing up, he had never done anything without it. With elves to do their bidding, Draco had never learnt to truly fend for himself. So it was a struggle, but he had gotten use to it. Narcissa had spotted a few moments of wonder from her son in regards to the various things that Muggles lived with.

It seemed 'however' that good things weren't able to last for Draco and herself. Just as they were finding their feet, the rug was pulled from beneath them. Leaving them floundering, once more.

Narcissa had begun to enjoy a daily walk through the streets in the afternoon sunshine. It cleared her head, and relaxed her. Today she had managed to convince Draco to join her for the first time. How she wished now she hadn't.

She knew the Weasleys, of course, but not personally. If she was out and about, she might have crossed paths with the mother. With their vibrant red hair, the children were always recognisable. Draco had 'over the last few years' cursed a _Ron _a time or several in her presence. This Weasley stood tall, and proud in front of them. His hair shining, his face set, his lips nothing more than a thin line. Draco had kept details of what happened that night at Hogwarts to a bare minimum, but Fenrir Greyback was had been mentioned. She had let him say no more then, as the mere thought of that thing was enough to scare her. This Weasley's scars, thin lines crisscrossing across his tanned face, still pink with freshness, were no doubt his work.

Draco towered beside her. He stood to his full height, still not meeting this man's shoulders. His lips quivered to the slightest degree, and he looked on the verge of running. She reached for his hand, and gently squeezed it with her own. Questions were racing through her mind, and she couldn't hear any answers. What was he doing here? Was he sent to find them? Or was it purely by chance that he had found them? It seemed too large a coincidence that they could be on the same street in Paris; the chances of it happening didn't seem likely.

Their flight mechanism hadn't been used in weeks, since they'd left England for France, but it was the time again to engage it. Looking past the Weasley, Narcissa spotted a large group of tourists making their way towards them. They took up the whole pavement as they walked, conversing and laughing loudly amongst themselves. Holding Draco's hand firmly within her own, she held the Weasley's eye, waiting for just the right moment. As the Americans surrounded them as they passed, Narcissa pulled Draco with her, and, turning, she ran through them. With Draco sprinting next to her, they ran passed shocked and outraged individuals, till she saw an entryway. Stepping into it quickly, she Apparated Draco and herself back to their hotel room. The time for not using magic had elapsed.

"Bloody hell Mum, some warning would be nice," Draco panted, his hands on his knees.

"There wasn't time," she exclaimed. "Do you think he's here for us?"

"I don't know, maybe," he stood up straight. "What are we going to do now?"

"We have to go, because if he knows where we are, then the Order knows, and if they know, _He _will know."

She crossed the room, parted the curtains slightly, and looked down onto the street below. The lights were beginning to be turned on, and the night was starting. Their _friend _was nowhere to be seen, though she didn't expect him to be. Narcissa could just see in the distance where they had encountered him. It wouldn't be long though, because if he had found them on the street, he would find their hotel.

"When do we go?"

"As soon as it's dark. Go pack now; we'll go to the train station as soon as we can, and get on the first train out of the country."

He didn't fight her. This brush with home had no doubt reminded him that this wasn't a holiday; they were running, from home. She heard the door of the adjoining room close, and she closed the curtain. Narcissa pulled her small bag from the top of the wardrobe, and started packing her meagre amount of belongings inside of it. It was a quick job, only taking a few minutes to remove her things from the drawers. Her former life had dissolved; of what had once been lavish and full of meaningless possessions, all that remained could be packed into a small bag. She sat down next to her bag, and waited for Draco to come out.

She didn't know how he had found them, but he must have been persistent. As far as she was aware, they had left no trail, but he still managed to be right behind them; and if he was, he wouldn't be the only one. She had told Draco that they didn't need to run anymore, they could wait here in somewhat comfortable surroundings. Now it felt like they'd been sitting in a giant trap.

There was a firm rap on the door, and a French voice called out, "Housekeeping."

She moved to the door, and opened it a crack. "We don't need ---"

The door was pushed open, and a hotel employee entered the room, finger against lips, pushing the door closed with their foot. The hat fell off, displaying a shock of red hair. "Muffliato," he whispered.

Narcissa struggled against him, pulling herself away from him, as she rushed to Draco's room.

"Please Mrs. Malfoy," he said quickly, moving right behind her. "I just want to talk to you, I won't hurt you."

Narcissa pulled the handle to Draco's door, and when it wouldn't budge, she spun around. Upon noticing his close proximity, she pressed herself against the door, demanding, "What did you do?"

"I'll open it soon, I need to talk to _you_. If Draco is anything like my brother, he will not make this go smoothly. Right now, he's a hindrance. You need to stay calm."

"Calm?!" She shook her head, "You enter my room under false pretences, _push _me around, and then lock my son in his room. Calm is nowhere near what I'm feeling. My husband didn't put much stock in you Weasleys, but even this behaviour seems a little extreme."

"I apologise, Mrs. Malfoy, but my actions are necessary."

"How did you find us, anyway?"

"Luck."

Snorting to herself, Narcissa replied, "I don't think so. You just happened to be on the same street as we in a foreign country? It's highly improbable."

"I have my own reasons for being in France. Finding your son and you was never my intention."

"You did though," she said quietly.

"Yes."

Sighing she said, "What do you want with us? We haven't done anything wrong."

"I want to take you with me." She looked up at him; his eyes were resolute once more. "We can protect you, both of you."

"I don't think so. The _last thing _my son needs is England. We aren't going back there yet --- he's not ready."

"Mrs. Malfoy, if I can find you, purely by luck alone, then what are the chances that, when someone is looking for you, they will find you? What do you think the consequences will be then?"

"Of course I have thought about that, and believe me, Mr. Weasley, I know what the consequences will be. That's why we are leaving as soon as we can."

"What kind of life is that, though? Always looking over your shoulder, wondering if someone is behind you, ready to hurt you, or kill you? You cannot run forever, it is a futile exercise. You will get tired, lose your drive to run, and they will find you. Think of what will happen when they do."

"I do think about it, every night as I close my eyes, and I see what will happen to Draco if they find us. Which is why they can never find us, because we will hide. Out of sight, out of mind; we are hardly important to them."

"But you are," he responded. "You know things, things we could not begin to know or understand. Your husband, your sister, are involved so deeply; and Draco, too, with all that he knows. Our side needs you."

"Why would I help you? You will get what you want, and then throw us to them when you are finished with us. If you are so desperate for inside knowledge, talk to Severus. I know he played both sides; talk to him."

"Snape is no longer an option."

"So he finally chose a side, and it wasn't yours?"

"He always had a side, and it was his own. That was his greatest downfall, he played to stay alive."

"His downfall? What do you mean?"

"He's dead; it appears that Voldemort got tired of his little spy."

"Oh my!" she gasped.

"Mum?!" Draco panicked voice called from the room behind her. "Why won't my door open? What's going on?"

"Open the door, we are finished talking," she said in a low voice.

He nodded, waving his hand to the slightest degree. The door's lock clicked, and Draco opened it behind her.

"What the hell was that?!"

"Language please, Draco, we have company."

"Company?" Draco pushed passed her, but stopped when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Weasley, what are you doing here? What do you want?"

"I'm just talking with your mum," he said smoothly. "How are you, Draco?"

"I'm just _swell_," he snapped.

"Glad to hear it," Bill smiled at Draco. Turning his attention back to Narcissa he asked, "Is there a Floo in your suite?"

"There is a fireplace in Draco's room; I don't know if it's connected though."

He nodded, "It should be. Most of them are, but they are not terribly utilised. I'll just use it to contact Moody..."

"_Professor _Moody?" Draco exclaimed beside her.

"Yes, I'll be back in a minute." Narcissa moved out of the way, Draco sticking to her side.

He turned on her the second the door closed behind them, whispering, "What is he doing here?"

"He found us, again." She grabbed her bag from her bed, looking at Draco's empty hands. "Where is your bag?"

"In the room --- I put it down as I was fighting with the door handle. What does he want?"

"He wants to take us back to England, but we aren't going anywhere with him. Narcissa moved to the door. "We are leaving, _now_, without him. We'll get you some new things later." With Draco behind her, she turned the door handle, but it refused to open, much like Draco's had. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.

"No arguments from me, shouldn't be surprised though, him trapping us in here."

"We are on the fourth floor; we can't go out the window," she said, looking around the room.

"Well, let's Apparate somewhere, anywhere!"

"We can't risk being seen. It was a huge risk using magic before. For all we know, the French Ministry could be tracking us right now."

"So we are stuck. Going back to England with that bastard?"

"He said they can protect us," she said quietly.

"No one can protect us from Him."

Narcissa dropped her bag at her feet signing defeatedly, "It seems that it's our only option, though."

"Only because he locked us in. What a way to take our options away," he snapped, kicking the door.

"We didn't have any options anyway, Draco. Run for the rest of the conflict? Always making sure that no one is behind us? Maybe _they _can protect us, and maybe _we_ can help them."

"How?"

"By telling us everything you know about Voldemort, and the Death Eaters," Bill said from the doorway.

Grimacing at the mention of his name Draco responded, "All that we know would not be helpful."

"Even so, it's more than we know at the moment. I meant it Draco, we can protect you. They would never have to know you were helping us. We will keep it to a bare minimum of ears, I would know, naturally, as well as Moody. I highly doubt it would go much further than that."

"What about Potter?"

"Depends," he shrugged. "If what you tell us has any bearing on anything to do with what Harry is up against, then he will need to be told. If, and when, that happens, we'll see if it's necessary for him to know who gave us the information."

"He won't like it."

"Harry knows that things aren't always as they seem. He's grown up a lot over the last few weeks; he's not the same person he was, and I'd hazard a guess, neither are you."

Draco sat on the edge of Narcissa's bed, "So it's pretty much a foregone conclusion that we are going to come with you?"

Seating himself opposite, Bill said, "Like your Mum said, Draco, it's the _only_ option. You can run, but they'd find you, and it wouldn't be pretty when they did. You know what they are capable of; do you really want to put yourself, or your mother, in that position?"

Draco glared at him, "Don't try to influence me by saying that. I would never intentionally put her in harm's way. Keeping her safe, away from all danger, is my only priority."

"As is mine," she said from behind them.

Nodding to himself Draco asked, "So what's the plan?"

"I have a Portkey, and I've changed the co-ordinates. We will go to Scotland, and from there get a train to London. I was never meant to be returning directly to London, so it may raise the wrong eyebrows if I did now."

"But surely, we would be recognised?" Narcissa asked.

"A simple glamour charm," he said. "We would change your hair, your voice, only do what is necessary."

"What time is your Portkey?" Narcissa asked as she moved to sit next to Draco.

"In about ten minutes," he said looking down at his watch. "Which means we have to get organised; I see you packed already."

"You have the Portkey on you?"

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket, "Right here."

Draco reached over and grabbed one of Narcissa's hands; she looked at him, and gave him a small smile. She looked back to Bill, "Let's do it then. I haven't performed a Glamour Charm in a long time."

"That's fine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I've done them a fair bit over the last few years. Now the ruse will probably work better if we look like we are related --- brothers and a sister." Standing up, he pulled his wand from his back pocket. "It doesn't hurt, it's only perception. Your reflection looks different, but you will feel like yourself."

Draco stood growling, "Just get on with it."

With a wave of his wand, and the simple incantation, a flash of light flew at Draco, who didn't flinch, but he did blink rapidly.

Reaching up, Draco felt his face, "It's just the same."

Bill grinned at him, "Go have a look in the mirror."

Narcissa smiled at her son as he passed her. "A little bit cruel, don't you think?" She whispered to Bill.

"I told him we had to look related," he chuckled.

She was opening her mouth to suggest they all change, when an outraged yell preceded Draco storming back into the room, "Change it back, you mongrel!"

"We don't have time I'm afraid, and besides, you look just like my brother."

"Mum!" Draco turned to her, "It's outrageous!"

"Draco, dear, no one would ever imagine _you _with hair like that. I'm changing as well, remember."

"It's _red _Mum! I look like a Weasley, I look like the bloody Weasel!"

"You don't look like yourself though, and that is the main thing."

Draco threw his hands in the air, and slammed himself into a chair.

Standing in front of her, wand in hand, Bill asked, "Ready, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Ready."

--

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Adaptation  
**By:** mandy-jg  
**Rating:** Any Age  
**Pairing:** Narcissa/Bill  
**Summary:** _"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."_  
**A/N:** Beta'd by **kazfeist**. Thanks!  
**Prompt:** Choices - **100quills**  
**Deathly Hallows:** Not really relevant, since it's set then, and some things don't happen. Also, I can't really remember little things, so other than some people still being alive, and other little bits, not really compliant at all.  


PART TWO

The rain pelted against the glass windows of their carriage, running steadily down the window panes, as dark grey clouds coloured the early morning sky. Draco lay on the seat beside her, her traveling cloak spread over him. He slept, but it wasn't peaceful. Every now and then he would say something, muttering to himself. _No_, and _please no_, where the popular choices. Their companion appeared to be sleeping on the opposite seat.

While Draco shook and fought an unknown foe as he slept, Bill Weasley was sitting back against the cushion, his eyes closed. He hadn't moved a muscle in the last hour; she could only assume that he was fast asleep. Even asleep however, he seemed to fill the room. For reasons she didn't understand at the moment, with him there, even seemingly asleep, it still felt like he was protecting them.

Every step of the way he seemed to have control over every step of tey. The Portkey had sent them to a small field on the edges of a town north of Edinburgh. With him in the lead, they had walked through the night to the station. Once there, he'd purchased three tickets to London. When they were on board the Muggle train, he had encouraged them to sleep, to take this opportunity to rest. Draco had seized it gladly, but she couldn't. Once again, she had many questions running through her head, and she couldn't find any answers.

Narcissa had put so much thought into, their escape, now that it was over and they were returning, she had no idea what was going to happen. This wasn't what she wanted for Draco; he had only just started really opening up to her. She didn't just how much he had kept her in the dark. About things at Hogwarts, things with his father. What she thought she knew was completely incorrect. He had lived a life that she had known nothing about. His progress would no doubt be stunted as a result of this; she would have to start to really discover her son all over again.

They had even begun to deal with the consequences of what Draco had done, or had very nearly done. While not by his hand, but it was had been set in motion by him. There were going to be repercussions, from both sides. Severus had paid his debt with his life. It wasn't entirely on Draco's shoulders though; Severus had years of misdeeds and deceit that had decreed that result. The guilt that Draco was feeling though, would only increase as they reached London.

A man passed their closed door, and stumbled against it. Bill was on his feet instantly, his wand in his hand before she could blink. The man laughed drunkenly to himself, before moving away. She exhaled and Bill returned to his seat.

"It wasn't likely to be them," he said.

"Best to be alert," she answered.

"Generally, can't get caught by surprise then."

"So, you weren't sleeping?"

"No."

"Then why did you pretend?"

"If I was sitting here with my eyes open, Draco would be awake, and you would have been as nervous as all get out. Given what is going to happen, Draco and _you _need all the rest you can get."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

He nodded slightly, "I try."

She smiled softly, "Are you an Auror then, Mr. Weasley?"

"Bill, my name is Bill, and no. I never went down that path."

"Which one did you choose, then?"

"I spent about seven years in Egypt, curse work mainly, along some other things down in the tombs."

"Then you came home?"

"Yeah, when _he _came back, it made more sense to return. I've worked at Gringotts ever since."

"You move like an Auror though, on your feet instantly."

"I have good reflexes. When you have dozens of deadly curses flying at you, you learn to move quickly and effectively."

"Well you must be good at it then; you're still alive."

"It helps that there is no room for error. I have to act quickly, _and _correctly. There have been a few close calls though, some closer than I'd like."

A crack of thunder lit up the sky outside the window, a small village visible in the distance for a moment. Looking out into the darkness, Narcissa asked, "What's going to happen to Draco?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. The right people know the truth about what happened to Professor Dumbledore. It's not even widely known that Draco was there that night. And while may be some slight suspicion in regards to the Death Eaters coming into Hogwarts, I think the majority of it has fallen to Snape. It's easier for people to suspect the _reformed _Death Eater."

"But he's dead now."

"Again, not common knowledge, yet, of course. It was only discovered by us a few days ago. Who knows, it may even confirm his guilt to those who suspect. Who knows what the public will think."

"Draco, he's not a _suspect_?"

"No, the Aurors have more important things to worry about at the moment. They aren't the ones you should worry about anyway."

"What are they doing then?"

"We have no idea. Other than the usual purging of those with inferior blood and of those who associate with them, Voldemort's actions are still unpredictable."

"So once again, he's a mystery."

"We do know his end game though, his driving force."

"Young Mr. Potter."

Bill nodded, "It's what I think he wants most. To rid himself of his greatest embarrassment; the reminder of his downfall."

"He's still unpredictable, though, and without Dumbledore, it surely won't be easy for you."

"It has never been easy, but we have to keep fighting. No one wants the other side to be victorious." Draco shifted beside her, and she reached down and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. Bill cleared his throat opposite her, "A few days after Dumbledore's funeral, there was a breakout from Azkaban. No Death Eaters remained."

Her hand stilled on Draco's forehead, speaking carefully, "I imagine he hasn't been seen."

"No, none of them have."

She closed her eyes, "He won't be happy with me."

"Why?"

"I left, I took Draco, and we left. I did the _wrong _thing."

"I think protecting your son, his son, is hardly the wrong thing."

"Oh but it is. Draco had a _noble _quest, something to put us back in the Dark Lord's good graces. It went wrong, as you well know, and I should have remained in England with Draco to let _him _deal with Draco."

"I can really see the difficulty in that decision making-process. Stay and let your son surely be killed, or go and keep him safe."

"There was _never _another option. Till we encountered you, coming back to England wasn't something I considered."

"You are doing the right thing."

"Am I?" She asked softly.

"Yes, even if you can't help us in any way, we can protect you. Keep you out of sight. It won't be nearly as glamorous as Paris, but you'll be alive, and you won't be looking over your shoulder every other second."

"It won't be glamorous at all. I don't know what would be better. Remaining in Paris, looking over our shoulder every second, as you say, or stuck within four walls for an indeterminate period of time?"

"It hardly compares, of course. I know which I'd prefer, but you have to remain unseen. It won't be four walls exactly either; we have somewhere for you to stay. Somewhere somewhat familiar to you. You may be confined but you'll be comfortable."

"Where, then?"

"Twelve Grimmauld Place."

"The headquarters for your Order?"

"It was, but Kreacher's treachery to Sirius, and it's result, voided that."

Looking down at her hands, she remembered her role in Sirius's death, "If that action voided that protection, how could it be safe for Draco and myself?"

"We had a Secret Keeper before; we'll use one again."

"If only Moody or yourself know, then it will be one of you?"

He nodded, "Naturally. The good thing is, it is the last place any one would suspect Draco and yourself to be. No one would think of either of us as your Secret Keeper."

"He will have a lot of questions, won't he?"

"Moody?" Narcissa nodded, "Yeah, but you'll know the answers. If you do want to help us, it will be an easy process. You do want to help us?"

"I want my son to have a life, not a life spent hiding."

"Then you'll be able to help us. With any luck, this fight will not be a long drawn-out process, and your freedom will come sooner, rather than later."

Pushing Draco's hair behind an ear, "I hope so."

--

The train lurched violently, and Draco nearly rolled off the seat as a result. Only by grabbing a hold of the cushion below him, did he stop himself. Stretching slightly, he sat up, his mum smiling at him.

"Did you sleep well dear?" She asked.

"I slept."

"I heard you talking in your sleep; was it a bad dream?"

"I can't remember a time when I had good ones," he sighed.

"You never said anything."

"I prefer to forget them."

"What was it about? This last one," she asked.

"He found us," he said closing his eyes, the images returning immediately. "They weren't happy with us, and they showed just how much so."

"Were there any faces?"

"They were all wearing their robes, masks included. Not that it matters, we know who they all are."

"Draco. While you were sleeping, Bill told me something, about your father."

"What about him? And you call him _Bill_?"

"He asked me to, and there was a breakout from Azkaban, they all escaped."

"All of them?"

"Every one of them."

He swallowed thickly, the knot in his stomach tightening. Draco glanced at the seat in front of them, now empty. "So where's our great protector?"

"He went to get something to eat; he'll be back soon."

Draco looked over at her, smiling at her appearance, "you look so _odd _with hair like that."

She laughed quietly, "You as well, you don't look like my son."

"Strange isn't it?" He smiled. "I might go to the bathroom, and get something to eat as well. Do you want anything?"

Shaking her head, "I'm fine."

"Alright, back soon."

Closing the door securely behind him, he moved down the empty hallway. Inside the cabins were sleeping passengers, tiny slivers of light coming through the cracks in the blinds. Their train was scheduled to arrive in London at just past six o'clock in the morning. From there, he had no idea what was to come. All he knew for sure was that he would be facing Professor Moody and all his questions. That 'in itself' was not something he was looking forward to.

After using the bathroom, he headed further down the train, hoping to be heading in the direction of the refreshments. They had missed dinner the night before, and his stomach was making its presence well known. The dining area was relatively empty: other than Weasley, there was only one other occupant. Draco ordered some toast, and a cup of coffee, then went and joined him.

"Good morning," Weasley said, looking up from a newspaper.

"Morning."

"Well rested, I hope?"

"Reasonably, any sleep is good sleep, I suppose."

Draco leaned back as his breakfast was placed in front of him, "Thank you." Once they were alone again, "So I assume it's safe to leave her alone?"

He nodded, "There isn't a threat on board. I didn't expect there to be, and I imagine she would like some time to herself."

Draco spread some marmalade onto his toast, before biting into it. He swallowed quickly; then, forgetting all kinds of manners, he greedily ate it all down. Picking up his coffee, he washed it down: the relief was instant.

Bill grinned at him, "Feel better?"

"Much," he sighed.

"I was the same fifteen minutes ago."

He looked over at the other person nearby, who was falling asleep on his newspaper. "I don't want her in there."

"Your mum?"

Draco nodded.

"Where?"

"When I talk to Moody, there is a lot she doesn't know. There is a lot I _don't _want her to know."

"I don't think she'll like that mate, and besides, your mother doesn't strike me as the naive type. She knows more than you think she does."

"Doesn't matter, either way. I won't talk to Moody while she is in the room. I've done things I'm not proud of, and even if she has the slightest idea; I'd still rather not lay all my wrongdoings on the table in front of her."

"It's your decision."

"Thank you. There will 'no doubt' be a time for that discussion, but I'm not ready just yet."

Leaning forward, Bill spoke quietly, "There is no reason to be scared about this. Mad Eye may come across rather _mad _sometimes, but he's good at his job, the best. He's tough, fair, and as long as you don't try to trick him, or lie to him, he will listen to you."

"No matter how much he doesn't want to?"

"Exactly...he may not like you." He laughed softly, "I can pretty much guarantee that he won't like you, but personal feelings will not influence him."

Draco looked away from him, and out the window. He could see the sun rising over the horizon; it wouldn't be long till they were in London. "Weasley, I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"If something happens to me, if I get," he swallowed thickly. "If I'm not there, you have to look after my mum. I'm pretty much all she has left now. I need to know that someone will be on her side."

"Of course."

Pushing his empty plate away, "It was hardly safe for her before, but my father, he has a fierce temper, and he doesn't take to failure well, especially _my _failure. If he can't get to me, but he can get to her, he may take it out on her." Continuing bitterly, "A failure of a son, who is very much a _mummy's _boy, causes him no small amount of embarrassment."

"Draco, I can't promise many things, but I will do my best, my absolute best, to keep him away from her."

"I don't care about what happens to me, but Mum..."

Holding up a hand, he nodded, "I understand."

--

It hadn't changed that much. It still felt dark, which was a very strange feeling for a house to have. This it seemed to have taken heart from its inhabitants, and become soulless. A shrine to the past, remaining there, clinging desperately to its glory days. There were some surface changes, and some things had disappeared. There were also the signs of someone different staying here: one of those things that Muggles used to write with, things her Aunt would have never let inside her house.

After Regulus died, and her Aunt's rapid decline into madness. She hadn't been in this house in years, not since Draco was a small child. It wasn't something she had wanted him to see. Not that she wanted to see it herself, with her parents deceased, Bellatrix imprisoned, and Andromeda expelled from the family. It broke her heart to see what remained of the 'Noble House of Black'. There was no nobility in this house anymore, and there hadn't been any for a very long time.

As she walked up the stairs, she could remember vividly of staying here as a child. Running up the stairs behind her more extroverted sisters, up to the boys' room. They would have known they were coming, and yet they would hide themselves away upstairs, letting the games begin immediately.

Narcissa stopped on the first landing she reached; walking across the old wood floors, she pushed open the bedroom door. The lanterns were empty, so she opened the blinds, and let the light shine in. A thick layer of dust covered all surfaces. What, as she had grown up, had been a home away from home, was now aged and dreary. The life had disappeared from it. She could hear her sisters' laughter in the air; closing her eyes, she could picture them so clearly. Under the covers they lay, saying goodnight to their Aunty, only to wait till she was gone, and they'd be up and out. Ready to find those pesky cousins.

They had been so innocent then; it had all changed of course. Andromeda had gone to Hogwarts first as the eldest, and she changed slowly. She wasn't as loud or flamboyant as Bellatrix was, but she wasn't meek, yet she drew inwardly as she got older. At least, when she was at home for the holidays. She would spend the majority of her time in her room, writing letters to her new friends. Narcissa could still remember the fight she had had with her parents when they discovered her sneaking to the Muggle village nearby to post a letter to her friends. Back then, she hadn't understood it completely, but looking back, she could see her sister steadily losing the beliefs that had been instilled in them since they were young.

Bellatrix was different; she would come home enraptured with all that she was learning, and all the friends that she was making. While Andromeda was withdrawing, Bella was blossoming: she couldn't wait to share it all. Narcissa remembered sitting on the end of her bed, listening intently, dreaming of the day when she could go to Hogwarts. She noticed the schism between her sisters, but she just thought they were fighting, a silly harmless fight. They would get over it, and everything would be fine. It wasn't though. There was no way that the two of them would ever see eye to eye ever again, not when they could barely stomach looking at each other.

She had been the one in the middle. Once she went to Hogwarts, Andromeda tried to steer her towards her friends, but Bella prevailed. If she closed her eyes and really tried, she could still see the look of disappointment on Andy's face whenever she looked at her. For the first few years she had wanted to go to her, and just _be _with her older sister, but one look from Bellatrix and she wouldn't dare. Unknowingly she had chosen her side in the struggle, and it left one sister out in the cold.

Narcissa left the room quickly, shutting the door to on those memories.

The opposite door led to what had been Sirius' room. Till he had moved out, he had been her favourite cousin, one of her favourite people, full stop. They were the same age, had shared the same milestones together, and had gone to Hogwarts together. Everything she had done in her life while growing up had intersected with his. She couldn't bring herself to open that door; the Sirius she knew and remembered wasn't the one from later years.

Closing her eyes, she could hear the last conversation they had had in this house, the last one they had ever had. He was smoking outside, on his window ledge. If his mother were to look out any of the windows, she would surely see him. He didn't care though; it was like he wanted her to see. She had urged him to throw away the Muggle cigarettes and come inside. He had refused, telling her that there was nothing inside for him. Out here there was freedom. Throwing the remains of his cigarette onto the ground below them, he picked up a bag from his bedroom floor. _Seeya Ciss_, rang through her ears, as she watched him leap out the window, and then the roar of a machine as he flew away.

She had seen him some times over the next few years, but they had never spoken. She was sorry for that, but it just wasn't possible. He had stepped outside the family, and was forbidden. They couldn't speak to him, for, as far as they were to be concerned, he was dead. For some, it was like he had never existed. There were 'of course' ways she could have used, she didn't though. At times she felt guilty, after what happened to him, that he virtually had no one in his life he could trust. She also felt guilty about what she had done, the hand she played in his death.

While Draco began to open up to her, she had kept him in the dark about that, letting him believe that it was all someone else's doing. Narcissa knew that it would help him, to have someone to talk to that _really _understood how he felt, and wasn't just offering platitudes. She knew just how he felt, the guilt, the betrayal. Just how rotten it felt to be influenced and used, manipulated into doing things, and creating results that were far from ideal.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

It was Bil. She wiped her cheeks, and started down the stairs. The trip down memory lane was closed for the day.

"It's my turn now," she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "I would really prefer it if you didn't call me that. It's my married name, I know, but at the moment I don't really feel like a Malfoy."

"Narcissa, then?"

She nodded at him, "Much better. Why are you out here?" The door to the study was still firmly closed to the side.

"Don't worry, it's all going fine," he said. "Nothing to get upset about. Moody is being very reasonable and Draco is being very mature. Frankly, I'm not needed."

"It's a sad realisation, isn't it?"

"Heartbreaking," he smiled.

"You should get used to them, they happen more and more as you get older."

"I'll prepare myself then."

"It pays to," she moved past him, noticing the forgotten Family tree on the wall.

Bill, walking behind her, stopped in the doorway. "Rather showy, I've always thought."

"Aunt Walburga didn't like to do things by halves," she said quietly. She ran her fingers over the names of her parents, following the vine to her name, and then down to Draco. "She was quite proud of her bloodline. What better way to show it off, than to display it so prominently?"

He walked over and stood behind her, noting. "Given the way my father and your husband carry on, it is hard to hard to think of us as related. Even if it's only by marriage."

Chuckling," Absolutely. I think Lucius nearly fainted when he realised he'd married into a family that was related to the Weasleys, however distantly. The enmity between the two of them is deep."

"Never shall the two meet." Bill moved further down the wall. "I haven't met many Blacks, present company excluded, but there are some that have proved more tolerable than others."

Following the line of his finger to where it rested against the tree, swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, "He _was_, and as a Black, I can agree with that statement."

"You know, as many times as I've been her, I still can't imagine what it was like growing up here. Portraits may only be a reflection of the subject, and I'm sure she is quite angry at us, but having _that _as a mother can't have been easy."

"She wasn't always like that, and she did have a fierce temper. It was a different generation, a different time. She put so much faith in the purity of blood; her family name was her calling card, her greatest accomplishment. It was up to her sons to continue that, to live up to the family name. Sirius 'as you know', didn't. All her hopes then fell to Regulus: he was going to save the name. When he died, though, no matter how _noble _it was, a part of her died. That was the beginning of the end for her. It was the start of her descent into madness, and it ultimately led to her death."

"I'm not going to feel sorry for her. Her thoughts and mine on the importance of _blood_, compared to the actual person, do not match. I really came to like Sirius, and can't help but think of how his life might have turned out, if he hadn't grown up here."

"Well firstly, I doubt she'd accept it even if you were to give it. And Sirius, he was always headstrong and liked to live dangerously. He may have been a different person, but he would have still got himself into all kinds of trouble."

He snorted to himself, "Probably. It was one of his greatest traits, as well as his worst. If he weren't that way, he'd probably be alive right now."

"He wouldn't be _Sirius _though."

"No, he wouldn't."

She walked out of the room, and Bill followed her. "Do you think they'll be much longer?"

"Hard to say, they could be nearly done or nowhere near finished. Moody is very thorough."

"That's good then," she sighed.

Bill moved in front of her. "I'm going to go home for a bit. Have a shower, stop at Mum's, stop her from going spare."

"Good plan," she smiled.

"I'll be back though: I don't think there is any food in the house. You and Draco will need some things."

"You don't have to bring us anything," she said quickly.

"Nah, it's fine," he shrugged. "You can't go get it, and Moody, grocery shopping? Best if I handle it."

"Well, thank you."

"Pleasure," he grinned. "It may take a while though, she has this rather annoying habit of _fawning _over me."

"Well, we'll be here," she sighed. "It's not like we have anywhere else we can be but here."

Placing a hand on her shoulder, "It will change. Soon."

Once Bill had closed the front door behind himself, she moved into the kitchen. Admittedly, not a room she had spent a lot of time in. She realised very quickly how right he was, as the cupboards were practically bare, and what remained inside them, she didn't trust for freshness. Narcissa could only find one old tin hiding in the bottom of the pantry, and in it were a few remaining tea bags. It wasn't much, but it would be enough for the time being. She found a cup in the cupboards, which, after a rinse in the sink, was usable. The kettle just started to whistle quietly as she heard a door open and close in the hall.

Wiping her hands on her robes she headed to the hallway, Mad-Eye Moody looked up at her as she came into view.

"I'm going now," he said. He looked past her, "Where's Weasley?"

"He left. You will be back though?" She asked moving closer to them.

"More than likely, tomorrow possibly. We still need to set up a Secret Keeper. Barring baring unforeseen circumstances, you will be fine for the evening."

"Alright then," she nodded, unsure what to say to the man. Draco himself seemed a little green next to him.

Moody nodded briefly to her, then to Draco, before letting himself out the front door. "He's a man of few words," Draco said.

"How was it?" She asked quickly.

"Not too bad," he shrugged nonchalantlly. "He asked, I answered, it was a pretty straightforward process."

"Do you think he'll have any more questions for you?"

"Don't know, though he asked a few about you. So he may want to talk to you as well."

"I expected him to: you can't be married to a Death Eater for twenty years and not know some things."

Draco bristled at the mention, although brief, of his father, "What is this place?" He asked quickly, diverting the subject. "It doesn't seem like the friendliest place for the Order to dump us."

"It has it's good parts; let me show you around."

--

"I think I would have liked having cousins," Draco said thoughtfully, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and stood in the entryway again.

"You do: my sister had a daughter." He turned to her with wide eyes. "Not Aunt Bellatrix, my other one. Not that she would have ever come to stay with us. I think she'd be about five years older than you, maybe more."

"You never said anything."

"My sister left the family so long ago, years before you were born. She _betrayed _the family," she sighed. "It wasn't something that was talked about; discussion on that topic was highly discouraged. Given the reason for her departure, and what she did later, it wasn't something your father wanted you to hear. It was a forbidden subject, for everyone."

"So, my cousin, is a half-blood?"

"Yes, my sister married a Muggle-born. I'm sure you can imagine the scandal it caused."

"Definitely, like if I took up with Granger, Pothead's girl."

Laughing quietly, "Something like that, yes." She walked into the kitchen, "I managed to find some tea bags, but not much else. Would you like a cup?"

"Sure," he said from behind her. "What are we going to do for food, though? We won't be able to survive on cups of tea."

"Bill is going to bring us some things, because we can't leave here at all. He said he'd be back later," she explained as she started the tea process all over again.

Sitting down at the table, using his sleeve he wiped the area in front of him, Draco commented, "He's not a bad bloke. His brother is a right knob; never actually thought there was a Weasley I could like."

Seating herself at the table near him, "Can I ask what you talked about in there?"

He slouched a little over the table, "Usual stuff, I suppose. If I ever went to any meetings with Father, if I knew where the Dark Lord met his _followers_," his voice got quieter. "And, just how I came to be the one with the task to kill him."

"What did you tell him?"

"All that I could tell him," he whispered. "I just want this all to be over Mum. I don't want to run, I don't want to hide. I don't want to be afraid of who is going to be outside that door if we were to open it. I want you to be free, from everything."

"Soon, love," she said reaching across the table, and covering his hand with hers. "Soon."

The fireplace to the right of them flashed bright green, and several packages of various sizes fell to the bottom of it. She looked at Draco questioningly. They stood up and crossed the floor towards them slowly, picking up and examining them carefully.

"What do you think they are?" He asked her.

"I have no idea," she whispered. "They can't be for us, and no one has obviously lived here in months."

"I'm going to open one," he said, reaching out.

"No! We don't know what they are, or who they are for. They could be dangerous. Someone sent something to hurt Potter, or someone in the Order. We should just leave them there."

"But aren't you curious?"

"Naturally," she said. "I do 'however' like my fingers, and opening one of them could be a recipe for trouble. Bill said he'd be back, and he worked with curses in Egypt. He can look at them."

"How did you know that?" Draco looked at her closely.

"He told me."

"When?"

"When we were on the train."

"When on the train?" He demanded.

"When you were sleeping."

"So you had a nice little chat, did you?" Draco folded his arms across his chest.

"We talked, yes," she shook her head. "Why don't you sit down, I'll make us a cup of tea."

"I don't think I like you talking to Weasley so much, or calling him _Bill_. We can't trust those Weasleys."

She turned to him incredulously, "Did you not just say three minutes ago, he wasn't _a bad bloke_?"

"Well," he snapped. "I changed my mind. Moody can bring us stuff. We don't need Weasley."

"Draco, you are being ridiculous. Besides, Mad-Eye is an Auror, he hardly has the time to get things for us, and I'd really rather he didn't. That man makes me very uncomfortable."

"Well, Weasley makes _me _uncomfortable: he held us prisoner and then forced us back. Doesn't make me trust him, besides which have you noticed the lines on his face? You know who gave him them to him; you know what that thing is, so he's probably got wolf in him now. Not the safest thing in the world, are they?"

"Yes, I do know all of that. I did go to Hogwarts, as well, and I remember learning about werewolves. I remember something very clearly... the full moon? You know what that means?"

"Yes," he snapped back at her. "Still doesn't mean we are safe for every other moon phase. It wasn't full when Greyback attacked him."

"Because that thing has become controlled by the beast within himself," she ran her hand over her face. "Draco, I like Bill. He seems like a nice person, and I would much rather he came to see us every few days than Moody. I'm sure you would rather anyone _but _Moody. I trust him, and you need to trust my judgement."

"Fine," he said. "But I'm going to be watching him, and if he does anything even _slightly _suspicious, he's not coming back here."

"If you say so dear," she said quietly.

The fireplace flashed again, and Bill crumpled to a heap onto the packages in the bottom. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "You didn't move them, I see."

Narcissa gave him one of her hands and helped him stand, "We weren't sure who they were from. Didn't know what they were, I thought we should wait for you to look at them. Did you send them?"

"Yeah," he said, wiping his pants as he stood.

"Our hero," Draco said bitterly behind them.

She shook her head at Bill's questioning look, "So what are they?"

"Food," he smiled. "I told mum I was back, and let it slip into conversation that I had nothing to eat at home, so she laded the food on me. I think there are some things to put in your cupboards, and something for dinner tonight."

He picked a few parcels up, and moved them over to the table. Pulling a knife from a holder on his ankle, he sliced the ties on them, and opened the boxes. Narcissa ignored Draco's attempts to get her to focus on the knife in his hand. "Well, I guess I can't thank your mother, so I'll just thank you."

Bill shrugged, "It's no problem. This is what she'd have given me regardless, too much for one person."

"I don't think I've ever cooked anything, myself," she smiled. "Guess I'm going to have to learn, really quickly."

"Mum gave me a book when I moved to Egypt; I never really looked at it. I'll bring it around for you; she wouldn't have given it to me if it weren't basic stuff. Cooking has never been my strongest area."

"That would be wonderful," she said, watching Draco on the other side of Bill. She shook her head fiercely at him. "Draco was wonderful in potions, I'm sure you'll be brilliant at cooking to dear."

Draco snorted, "If you say so." He watched Bill open the package, and pull a dish out. "That smells like, is that Treacle Tart?"

"Yeah, Mum makes a ripper one. Do you like it?"

"No," Draco said quickly, "I hate it."

Narcissa laughed, "No. He loves it. Every year on his birthday he would request that."

"Whatever," Draco whispered, keeping his eye on the dish in Bill's hand.

Narcissa went to the cupboards and got some plates out, rinsing them underneath the tap. Bill came and stood next to her, getting some cutlery out of a drawer. "Did it not go well? Moody and Draco? He's not in a very good mood," he whispered.

"He's fine, just being a typical teenage male," she whispered back. "It'll pass, I hope."

--


End file.
